


Hands Four

by blacktail_chorus



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ACD Canon References, Ballroom Dancing, Crack, Dancing, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Music, Waltzing, contradance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3986041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktail_chorus/pseuds/blacktail_chorus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock didn't teach John to dance for the wedding. He taught him to dance for a case.</p>
<p>Can be pre-slash if you like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Four

**Author's Note:**

> You do not need to be familiar with contradance to understand this fic, but to get you in the mood, you might want to watch at least the first minute of this video: [Doug Plummer and Crowfoot](https://youtu.be/-1cPyJWm-g4). The first thirty seconds focus on the musicians, and the dance filming starts at about 0:35. (I'll bet you'll watch all the way til the end!)

"Hands four from the top!"

That meant, John had learned, that he was to take his current dance partner to a long line of other dancers and find another couple to make a group of four. He wiped his brow and smiled at... Rita? Rachel? (hard to remember names when he was expected to find a new partner for every set), steering her towards the line on the left side of the hall.

Sherlock had selected his own anonymous partner and positioned himself in the other line, the one that held their target. Nell Blythewaite was a suspected jewel thief and blonde bombshell with an uncanny ability to slip away once the net had begun to close around her. Three times Scotland Yard had attempted to pick her up, and three times they had failed--once in a very public and embarrassing manner. Sherlock and John had been called in and tasked with literally getting their hands on her.

John didn't think that was going to be a problem tonight. Nell liked contradances, and these dances, John had determined, were all about making physical contact with as many strangers as possible. Each dance followed specific patterns and moves called out by a woman standing beside the band; nearly all the moves involved taking hands or spinning in circles or taking hands while spinning in circles until each person eventually managed to do at least one move with every other person in the line. Personally, John thought Sherlock could just spin right into the target, slap some handcuffs on her and call it a night.

The plan was more complex than that, of course. To start, Sherlock had insisted that John learn all the different moves ahead of time so he wouldn't stand out as a rank beginner. That led to nearly three days of intensive "training" in Baker Street: the furniture had been pushed back and Sherlock's experiments cleared away in order to make space for John to produce frustrated sighs while Sherlock rabbited on about steps and angles and dragged John about the room. Then John tried leading. He wasn't entirely sure how he could have stepped on Sherlock's feet _that many_ times, especially since he'd taken care to look down at his own. Still, he'd managed well enough that Sherlock had grudgingly proclaimed him "passable," and off they went to the dance.

And to John's surprise, he was actually having quite a bit of fun. It didn't hurt that the dance moves called for a different woman to throw herself into his arms approximately every twenty seconds. The music was energetic, and everyone was smiling. It made for a nice change of pace.

The plan, overall, was to integrate into the dance during the first half of the evening, then make their move before the second half began. Sherlock had deduced that Nell liked flashy partners, so he was pulling out all the stops in an attempt to interest her in dancing with him for the waltz that preceded the break. During the break, he'd escort her outside to "get some air" and "find his friend," where his friends John and Lestrade would indeed be waiting.

(Lestrade was currently hunkered down in a bush outside. It had been drizzling earlier, and John had been very thankful he'd gone in for the dance lessons.)

But right now, John had to attend to the contradance. The band counted off the beat and launched into its next tune, signaling the start of a new dance.

"Long lines, forward and back!" the caller prompted.

And so began another incarnation of twisting, twirling, interconnected moves. This was John's fifth straight dance this evening, and he and everyone around him was pouring sweat. The windows in the hall had been thrown open but the air inside was still hot and alive. The fiddle music was a juggernaut compelling each dancer to move forward with the caller's instructions, which were shouted out in a rhythmic beat.

John's grin grew wider when the woman onstage called for a swing. His partner of the moment leaned into his shoulder and the two of them spun around for six breathless seconds. It was customary, he had determined, to look deeply into your partner's eyes during this move. The intense, wordless energy made him want to laugh. It was so absurdly intimate, but only until the next move was called and his partner snapped away.

How had Sherlock learned this sort of dance, John wondered (not for the first time). It was loud and passionate and alive; it was physical, it was social. Back at Baker Street, Sherlock had made an offhand comment about the dance exemplifying mathematical symmetries, but he'd otherwise offered little else. John had only caught short glimpses of his flatmate's dancing that evening, as they'd decided to stick to separate lines. "Flashy" was the right word for it: Sherlock was very, very good.

\--

"Take hands four for the last contra before the waltz break!"

This was John's cue to amble outside. He'd wait through this dance and the waltz, then position himself on the patio for Sherlock to come "find" him with Nell in tow.

He heard the music begin, spilling out the open windows and enlivening the dark night. The sky was clear now, and the slightly damp chill was a welcome respite from the sauna in the hall. John could feel his sweat drying sticky on his back. He let out a contented sigh.

His respite was interrupted by a gangly, reedy man with frazzled brown hair who knocked into his right shoulder after stumbling out of the hall. John braced himself and turned, his mouth open to speak.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" the man--more like a boy, really--exclaimed. "All the spinning, you know! I'm just going to have a bit of a lie-down, I think, out in m' car." He clumsily patted at John's shoulder. "Sorry, really, I'm very sorry."

"Alright," John said evenly, mollified. "Do you need a hand?"

"Not at all. I'm just 'round the corner," the lad assured him. "Uh... bye!" With that, he staggered off into the night.

Hardly a moment had passed since the boy disappeared when Sherlock burst through the door and onto the patio. Sweat had plastered fine tendrils of hair to his forehead and temples. His chest heaved and, standing there, almost silhouetted in the light from the open door, he looked absolutely vital. "John!" he called. "Did you see her? Where did she go?"

" _She_?" John asked, confused. The music for the contradance was still reeling along; Sherlock wasn't due to bring Nell out for another few minutes at least. "There hasn't been anyone else out here. Well, there was a boy who came out a few minutes ago--"

"Did he drop this?" Sherlock swooped down to pick up a small folded note on the ground behind John, near his feet.

"What?"

Sherlock deftly unfolded the paper and peered down at it. Then he let out a short laugh and tossed the note to John.

"To Sherlock Holmes," he read. "Thank you for the invitation, but I believe your dance card is already full. Until next time, perhaps. - Nell"

"That boy--did he have a thin face? Brown hair, uncoordinated?" Sherlock asked then, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Was that _her_?" John sputtered. "But she's blonde! She's got masses of hair, and she's short! Shorter than he was, at least."

"I danced with him-- _her_ \--for a moment during that last dance. She must have hidden a disguise in the loo and popped in when everybody was milling about for water between sets. I'll bet"--and here he grinned a cheshire grin--"her real hair is cut short, and brown, and the long blonde hair is a wig for everyday disguise! Slow, too slow," he chided himself. And yet, his smile remained.

"Er..." John began, unsure what to say next. By all rights Sherlock should be on the verge of a massive strop: he'd been outsmarted and the criminal had walked out from right under his nose.

"She's quite right, though," Sherlock continued. "It can't be helped. And the waltz is just about to begin."

John wrinkled his brow and pursed his lips.

"Would you care to dance, John?" Here Sherlock turned to face him fully. He extended his left hand, palm down, in a gesture John had come to learn meant he wished to dance the following part, rather than the lead.

"...alright?" John answered, tentatively taking the offered hand. "Are you sure you're Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective?"

"And regional ballroom dancing champion from ages thirteen through fifteen," Sherlock confirmed. "Come on!"

\---

They made it back to the floor just as the opening strains of the waltz began. A wooden flute carried the main melody, supported by an easy rhythmic counterpoint from the low strings and banjo. Sherlock turned John around into the classic waltz position. John froze.

"Go on," Sherlock prompted. "You're improving; I watched you earlier. Though you'll still have to lead. You're nowhere near skilled enough yet to follow."

John decided to give up on understanding as a bad job, and shifted his weight to take the first waltz step on the next downbeat.

Other couples swirled around them, advancing counterclockwise in a great circle around the hall. John looked past Sherlock's shoulder, wary of colliding with the others. His steps felt wooden and tentative compared to the great sweeping gestures other lead dancers made as they passed by. Yet Sherlock followed, matching each of John's small steps measure for measure.

"Look here," Sherlock said after a moment. "You had the right idea before."

John raised his eyes to meet Sherlock's. He remembered spinning with Hannah, and Alice, and Jane, and realized that this, the eye contact, was actually the most important part. And it hadn't been on any of the dance step diagrams Sherlock had tried to teach him with before.

He took a deep breath and lifted his chin, committed to holding Sherlock's gaze. Then he took a step forward. Neatly, effortlessly, Sherlock took a step back. John stepped again, and again, and he felt his grip on Sherlock's outstretched hand relax. Sherlock felt weightless in his arms. His body now moved as an extension of John's own: stepping and turning, there was no push-pull, and no bumping of knees or tangling of feet.

The wooden flute was joined by a light countermelody from the violin. The low instruments became more sustained and swelled with the peaks of each melodic phrase. John let a smile grow across his face and he reminded himself to breathe. Sherlock smiled back. This was easy. It was easy and good.

Finally, they slipped over into the main current flowing around the perimeter of the hall. The music carried them along. They were Sherlock-and-John, and they danced.

\---

Outside, still seated in a bush, Lestrade cursed his luck as the skies opened up and it began to rain.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 2 in the morning as a culmination of all sorts of cracky ideas I've had building up in my head. Sherlock loves dance, and his mother is a mathematician, so clearly she would have introduced him to contradance, which is a most mathematical endeavor. (Seriously, some math camps in the U.S. send their kids to contradances so they can learn... math things. I don't know, I just love the dancing.)
> 
> While dancing is an obvious metaphor for romance and sex, I think the most amazing thing about partnered dancing like the waltz is the incredible sense of physical and mental connection it engenders. It is unique.
> 
> Also, this is a [sample](http://www.waketheneighbors.com/music/Changeling.m3u) of the waltz they dance to at the end. And why not have another contradance video! [This one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beOFeIIk4KY) is extra spinny.


End file.
